Perchance to Dream
by Sentimental Star
Summary: Vulcans do not dream, but that does not mean they are unfeeling, despite all their claims to the contrary. Spock finds that choosing not to feel is a little more difficult where his captain is concerned, especially when it manifests itself in the form of a recurring nightmare…[Kirk/Spock]
1. Perchance to Dream

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing in this marvelous universe.

_**Author's Note:**_ Hi, all! This is my first foray into the _Star Trek_ fandom (for which I solely blame J. J. Abrams and my boyfriend). I hope Spock isn't OOC, or Jim, and I've done my best to keep them in character, so please enjoy! This may (or may not) turn into a 4 + 1 or a 5 + 1.

_**Rating:**_ T

_**Summary:**_ Vulcans do not dream, but that does not mean they are unfeeling, despite all their claims to the contrary. Spock finds that _choosing_ not to feel is a little more difficult where his captain is concerned, especially when it manifests itself in the form of a recurring nightmare…[Kirk/Spock]

"_**Speech"**_

_**Personal Thoughts/Memories/Dreams (Italics)**_

_.:Perchance to Dream:._

_By Sentimental Star_

**Perchance to Dream**

Spock wakes, gasping for air, the first time he has the nightmare. His body, normally so cold in the depths of space, is sheened with sweat.

"Lights, 100 percent," he gasps, shaking as he tries to sit up.

Even as lights flood his room, his elbows give way underneath him and he collapses backwards onto his mattress, still gasping , and futilely trying to get his breath back.

He lies there, shaking, for what is an indeterminate amount of time, listening intently for the sounds of slumber that normally issue from Jim's room: the slight whuffle of his breathing, the restless shuffling and shifting of sheets as he tries to get comfortable. Without truly being aware of it, those sounds have come to mean reassurance and safety to Spock.

There is nothing tonight.

It takes Spock awhile not to outright panic (or, as much as a half-Vulcan _can_ panic) and remember why.

Jim is in the medical bay, struck low by a virus that has attacked his frankly deplorable immune system. They picked it up on the last watery world they visited and it has done its rounds with the human and humanoid complement of the crew. Spock himself has had to visit the good doctor for a few days, as he, too, has been subjected to it.

Jim has been there for over a week already, which most likely explains this sudden intrusion into his normally peaceful, _dreamless _sleep.

Had they still been together, Spock might have sought out Nyota, but as they are not...

With a barely audible, incredibly _human_ sigh, Spock slides his feet onto the floor and sits up. Pushing himself gingerly upright, he pads silently around his quarters, pulling on his Starfleet issued uniform. Over it all, he pulls the sweater knitted for him by his mother.

At the continuing silence from Jim's quarters, Spock sets his jaw. Without a sound, he hits the controls for his door and slips out into the silent, nearly empty corridors.

He has vague thoughts about heading down to the labs to continue the research they've started on a sample of the planet's water, but suspects Mr. Sulu might not appreciate his experiment continued without him.

Therefore, it really isn't surprising that all his...he wouldn't call it _wandering_... leads him down to the sickbay, where the quiet thrum of the engines immediately starts to soothe him.

No one is with Jim when he slips into the Captain's semi- private room—startling when one considers Dr . McCoy's sehlat like tendencies when it comes to the Captain and the Captain's health-but that simply means he will not have to put up with the doctor's needling about how "illogical " his actions are regarding Jim.

Spock already knows that.

Releasing a soundless exhale, he slides into the chair that Dr. McCoy has (unwittingly) left there (or so Spock thinks).

Jim's skin should prove a marked contrast to the white sheets-all tan and sun-bright-but days spent in the sick bay battling the ever-encroaching virus and fever have leeched all color from his skin.

The sight does nothing to calm chaos of thought, emotion, and feeling swirling in endless eddies throughout his brain. Indeed, it is far too similar to the medically-induced coma McCoy had put him into moments after injecting the serum he'd created from Khan's blood into the younger man's bloodstream.

Spock will never forget the memory of his Captain's body convulsing, then flat-lining—_twice_—as it fought to accept something it should, by all logic, reject.

…And that is something he has no desire to think about at the moment. Irrational, illogical…but even as he sets his jaw and sinks into a meditative state (with a great deal more difficulty than he likes), his hand slides out of his lap and his fingertips just barely brush against Jim's.

_End Night One_


	2. The Darkest Evening of the Year

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing in this marvelous universe.

_**Author's Note:**_ Hi, everyone! This has officially turned in to a 4 + 1—that is, four times Spock has a nightmare when Jim isn't there, and one time Jim has a nightmare when Spock isn't. I enjoy writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

_**Rating:**_ T

_**Summary:**_ Vulcans do not dream, but that does not mean they are unfeeling, despite all their claims to the contrary. Spock finds that _choosing_ not to feel is a little more difficult where his captain is concerned, especially when it manifests itself in the form of a recurring nightmare…[Kirk/Spock]

"_**Speech"**_

_**Personal Thoughts/Memories/Dreams (Italics)**_

_.:Perchance to Dream:._

_By Sentimental Star_

**The Darkest Evening of the Year**

Spock wakes, throat seizing on a silent cry, the second time he has the nightmare. The sweat he breaks out into is cold, and _he_ is cold, in spite of the warm human body curled against him.

Nyota and he have long since terminated their romantic relationship (a year, almost to the day), but that does not mean he no longer cares for her well-being, and she has reacted badly to the subzero temperatures of Gemini VI.

It does not make him feel any less discomfited, though, in spite of Dr. McCoy on her other side, doing his damnedest to keep her warm.

Especially with the all too apparent absence of one special human in particular.

Spock's breath shudders through his lungs as he finally inhales, and the shaky exhale he releases has McCoy frowning over Nyota's head at him.

However, before the good doctor can remark on it, a soft voice laced with amusement intrudes on the quiet, "Well, don't you three look as comfortable as a pile of puppies."

Spock immediately twists to face the ice cave's entrance, utterly unable to conceal the relief that infuses his expression, "Jim!"

Jim's brow furrows in confusion as he steps into the cave where the away team has sheltered for the past several hours, followed by Ensigns Mancini, Brown, and Fa. "Present," he replies, bemused.

There is an unmistakable growl from the doctor beside Spock, "An' where the hell have _you_ been, dammit?!"

Jim rolls his eyes, all but plopping down beside Spock, "It was a _little_ walk, Bones. Better than freezing my ass off, certainly." He shifts, and winces, "Quite literally."

"You should not have gone alone, Captain," Spock's voice is soft, and he startles himself by speaking at all.

Jim's eyes gentle as their gaze turns to him, and Spock feels an irrational burning sensation at the tips of his ears, "Sorry, I'll ask you to come next time. Besides, Uhura needed you here."

Rather more serious now, Jim leans across Spock's reclining body to look at Nyota, conscientiously not touching him (which is a little surprising, considering his Captain's usual propensity for touch), "How is she, Bones?"

Dr. McCoy scowls outright, "A far sight better than you are at the moment, ya stubborn mule. Wear yer damn gloves, idiot!"

"I can't."

Had he not needed to keep Nyota warm, the doctor would have been apoplectic, "An' why the hell not?!"

"Because Spock has them."

Jerked out of a ratcheting swirl of emotions by that unexpected declaration, the Vulcan immediately glances down at his side where, sure enough, a pair of gloves sits, stiff with cold.

Despite all efforts to the contrary, heat flushes his cheeks green, "I did not realize..."

Jim grins. Dr. McCoy huffs, but there is rather less ire when he speaks, "Fine. _Romeo_. But where the hell's yer backup pair?"

Ensign Fa clears her throat softly. Reeling still from the nightmare and the actions of Jim himself, Spock jerks upright into a seated position, nearly crashing foreheads with said Captain, as she comes to kneel in front of them. "Here you are, Captain," she is holding out a pair of gloves, "I thank you for the use of them."

A very distinct groan emits from the doctor and he flops his free arm over his eyes, "I give up! Just don't come cryin' to me when yer fingers freeze off!"

"You worry too much, Bones. It can't be good for your blood pressure."

Dr. McCoy scowls, peering balefully out from underneath his arm, "My blood pressure's just _fine_, thank you!"

"'Course it is, Bones," Jim replies with a roguish grin, before turning to Ms. Fa, "Those are for you to keep, Ensign. We've another couple hours, yet, before Enterprise can beam us up. She going to make it that long, Bones?"

Sighing, McCoy adjusts his grip on Nyota, "I'm not going to lie to ya, it'll be a near thing-"

Even before Spock sees Jim's jaw set, he knows what the Captain has in mind, "Jim...!"

With very little thought on the matter, he swiftly grabs both of Jim's hands in his own, just as the Captain goes to stand up.

A tremor wracks the icy digits, and Spock jerks as a sudden wall slams up between their minds, interrupting what should have been an uninhibited flow of emotion.

"Sorry, Spock," Jim gasps out, "I wasn't...expecting you to do that. I...I don't think…you'll be overwhelmed now."

Spock can do nothing but stare at his Captain. He did not realize Jim knew how to shield, he even has a guess as to where he learned it and from whom.

That does not make it any less unnerving.

His Captain has always felt very deeply, and until now, he has never felt the need to conceal it from Spock. Indeed, he is very free with his touches—more so even, perhaps, than he is with his thoughts (although, to a touch telepath, they are one in the same).

That he feels the need to shield now, when before he had not such inhibitions, does not sit well with his First Officer.

The shuttering of his face is unintentional, but from the quiet curse that issues from Jim's lips, it is apparent the younger man has seen it and, most likely, has read far too deeply into it. Gingerly, the Captain works his hands out of Spock's grasp, "…Fuck, Spock, don't…don't take this the wrong way. It's just that I..that is, we…are, er…"

Somehow, Jim's stumbling and stuttering has the desired (if unintended) effect of easing the clench that has taken up residence in Spock's side. He takes a deep breath, and hesitantly releases Jim's hands back to their owner, "Captain…it is illogical to pursue further attempts at communication without gloves. If your fingers fall off, you will be unable to use the communicator."

Startled, pleased, Jim barks out a laugh, "He didn't mean it literally, Spock."

Spock does not push against the shields in Jim's mind when the Captain—intentionally, this time—brushes their fingers together as he accepts the gloves.

He also does not let Jim know he has, for all intents and purposes, just kissed him.

Somewhere, in a very private corner of his mind, he wonders if it isn't fear staying his hand instead of Vulcan propriety

_End Night Two_


	3. Miles to Go Before I Sleep

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing in this marvelous universe.

_**Author's Note:**_ Hi, there—not sure about my thoughts on this particular chapter, just that I hope you liked it, and that I did not make Bones, Jim, or Spock too OOC. I know this scene may have been done hundreds of times before, but I hope this is a new—or, at least, interesting—take on it. It is my favorite in _Into Darkness_. Please enjoy!

_**Rating:**_ T

_**Summary:**_ Vulcans do not dream, but that does not mean they are unfeeling, despite all their claims to the contrary. Spock finds that _choosing_ not to feel is a little more difficult where his captain is concerned, especially when it manifests itself in the form of a recurring nightmare…[Kirk/Spock]

"_**Speech"**_

_**Personal Thoughts/Memories/Dreams (Italics)**_

_.:Perchance to Dream:._

_By Sentimental Star_

**Miles to Go Before I Sleep**

Spock _doesn't _wake the third time he has the nightmare; at least, not right away. He would have preferred it; struggles, actually, to open his eyes. His body, however, is far too heavy, while his mind is in tatters. Therefore, he is not in any shape—physically _or_ mentally—to accomplish anything other than falling more deeply into the dream:

_The sensation is no longer unfamiliar—this prickling awareness jangling through his nerves. He just wishes, for once, that his instincts were wrong._

_Unfortunately, they are never wrong when it concerns his Captain's welfare._

"_Engineering to Bridge. Mr. Spock…"_

_Spock suddenly understands the Terran phrase, 'lump in the throat.' He presses the comm button._

"_Mr. Scott…?"_

_The Chief Engineer's heavy response comes through clearly, "Sir…you'd better get down here…" an audible swallow emits from the interface, "…Better hurry."_

_Suddenly, running cannot get him down to Engineering fast enough._

_IOIOIOIOIOI_

_It is an odd sensation, realizing your entire world has ended, before you ever really found it. An unconscionable _wrench_ in his side, a vicious twist of his heart—even though, logically, he knows his heart remains firmly encased in his rib cage—wring his mind into knots._

_He finds himself wondering, pointlessly, if this is how Sarek felt when he lost Amanda, and if so, how his father ever managed to endure it._

_A constant, glass-sharp ache pervades the back of his mind, the paper-thin bond there fraying before it even has a chance to fully form._

_In hindsight, he really should have expected it, that something more tied him to Jim than simply their working relationship. That this friendship—because it __**is**__ friendship—has indeed defined him in unimaginable ways._

"_I…want you to know why I couldn't let you die," his Captain's words are labored, drawn out, as the human struggles for breath, "…why I went back for you…"_

_They have had this conversation so many times—it is illogical that they should have it again. Now. When Spock's entire world is falling apart in front of him._

_But now…he finally understands, if only he can force the reason past the obstruction in his throat, "…Because you are my friend."_

"_**Friend**__," for all its richness and depth in the Vulcan language, barely even begins to cover what Jim is to Spock. With very little surprise, he feels liquid heat slip down his cheek._

_It has always been this way with Jim—no one else, not even Nyota, can make him lose his vaunted Vulcan composure so __**fast**__…_

_Only now does he understand that he chose this—chose __**Jim**__—long ago, the very moment he stepped back aboard the Enterprise after Nero's defeat._

_Between their palms, the glass is much too cold and much too thick. Still, he presses harder against the barrier, __**willing**__ this sudden knowledge to reach Jim through his shaking fingers._

_When their bond snaps, shatters into a thousand tiny, fragmented pieces, Spock shoots awake with a strangled cry._

IOIOIOIOIOI

Medical implements and tricorders alike clatter to the ground. An abrupt, stinging yank in his right arm and a splash of hot liquid splatters green across the sheets in front of him. Above him, a high, electronic squeal grates on his sensitive hearing, followed in quick succession by a string of southern-bred curse words. They are bookended by a well-known epithet, "…Damn, green-blooded hobgoblin!"

_Doctor McCoy._ He is in sickbay.

That cannot mean anything good.

Lurching to his feet, Spock abruptly staggers off the biobed, his mind fixated on one destination, and one destination only: the Bridge, for surely if he is anywhere, Jim will be there.

"_Are ya outta yer cotton-pickin' mind?!_" the holler comes from behind him, steeped in an accented drawl that seldom emerges with such force.

Discarding the inclination to remark on the impossibility of a mind picking cotton, Spock clumsily sidesteps the doctor's grasp. He nearly careens into the bedside implements' table in his haste to avoid it, before righting himself and heading determinedly for the door, despite the weave in his step, "I must speak with the Captain."

McCoy scrambles after him, lunging to grab his arm, "Th' _hell_ ya will! Get yer green ass back 'ere!"

Spock ducks his grasp once more—and nearly topples headfirst into the door, only catching himself at the last second by grabbing its frame.

Just as McCoy looses a second string of southern-drawled expletives, the door to the medical bay snaps open and Jim, eyes wild, barrels into the infirmary.

His Captain very nearly collides with him, and meets his gaze for only a second, pupils blown impossibly wide, before his palms abruptly press against Spock's face.

Even as Spock relaxes, McCoy jumps, "_Christ's sake_, Jim!"

The other human gives no indication that he hears his best friend, using his body to gently urge Spock back towards his abandoned biobed. The blue eyes are considerably less wild, but a great deal brighter, as they lock on to the Vulcan's brown ones.

Spock finds his tongue loosed without his conscious permission, "_Jim_…"

More emotion is contained within that one word than Spock would normally comfortably show, but somewhere in his on-the-fritz brain, it tells him that this response is okay—indeed, _right_—when speaking with Jim.

Surprise briefly flickers across his Captain's countenance, before those blue eyes soften, "Shh, Spock," Jim's fingertips graze Spock's cheekbones, brush his ears, stroking repeatedly over the skin there. "Shh, sweetheart—it's all right. It's _all right_, sweetheart. You're gonna be okay."

In the background there is a clatter; Spock notices McCoy gaping at his Captain.

Jim apparently has not seen it, nor does he appear to be listening: Spock tugs and taps at their bond, but any feedback is strangely muted, covered over or surrounded by shields.

Surely it should not be like that. So he tries again, accompanying his actions by a much larger mental push, containing all the contrary emotions at war inside him, "_Ashayam_."

Jim's eyes shoot wide open and he reels back a whole pace and a half. "Spock…?" it's a sputter.

Puzzled, the Vulcan frowns, but does not receive the chance to seek any sort of clarification: a pinch to his neck renders him immobile, then sends him staggering forward, eyes glazed over, as Jim rushes to catch him.

"_Bones_!" his Captain's worried cry accompanies the darkness that rushes into his vision, followed by the feel of arms clutching him to a warm chest.

Before everything goes blank and back, their CMO's irritated huff penetrates his thoughts, "Damn it all if you don't love that pointy-eared hobgoblin, Jim Kirk!"

_End Night Three_


End file.
